


Sight Unseen

by pennylehane



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Gen, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13202241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennylehane/pseuds/pennylehane
Summary: “Damn-- psychics!” He could feel Hilbert struggling, pushing at their minds, and then there was another shock of pain as Minkowski’s shields failed and all of Lovelace’s alien scream hit her fullforce, sent her careening into Doug-- “We need to get her to my laboratory!”Eiffel has never met a psychic. Has always assumed that there were others out there, sure, but not close enough to meet. Close enough to feel. He'd know if he met one. He's sure he would.





	Sight Unseen

The buzz of the intercom went off, making Doug jolt hard enough to smack his wrist against the table with a yelp.

“What did you do?” demanded Minkowski. Doug, startled into bluntness, opened his mouth to babble something that  _ wasn’t  _ ‘I-still-haven’t-gotten-used-to-my-pyschic-powers-not-working-in-space,’ but she cut him off as she gathered herself. “Never mind. It clearly isn’t urgent. Did you read your copy of Pryce and Carter?”

“Huh?”

“Your copy of Pryce and Carter's Deep Space Survival Procedure Protocol Manual. Did you read it?”

_ No, because I was pretty sure I could lift anything I needed in an emergency out of your robot-brain.  _ “Yes! Absolutely I did.”

“Are you certain?”

“Was it a mandatory training thing?”

“Yes.” She sounded… probably unimpressed. Doug really hated the intercom.

“Then I am definitely certain.”

“Are you now?” Minkowski demanded. “Because I happened to find your copy of the D.S.S.P.P.M. floating in the observation deck. Still in its plastic wrapping.”

“Are you sure it isn’t Dr Hilbert’s?”

“Get to it, Eiffel. I want you to have the book read by 0600 tomorrow. In fact, if you can't recite that entire book backwards and forwards by tomorrow I'll not only confiscate the cigarettes you've got in the comms panel, I'll make you watch as I flush them out the airlock. One by one.”

Eiffel stared down at the packet of cigarettes, debating the odds that she would quiz him face-to-face. Probably not worth it—Minkowski was ridiculously hard to read—he set his jaw. “Well, clearly this is an important matter that requires my immediate attention.”

“I’m glad we understand each other.” He could almost hear her smug little smile as she flicked the intercom off.

Eiffel tipped back in his seat with a loud, heartfelt groan. “And I'm so glad that your shrivelled husk of a dictator's heart is as warm as a decompression chamber. Uggh. All right, let's just get this over with. Hera?” he called up to the speaker.

Hera, beautiful mystery that the AI mind was, crackled into existence and came to his rescue.

***

Here was the thing. Hera  _ knew _ Officer Eiffel had not, in fact, read his copy of Pryce and Carter's Deep Space Survival Procedure Protocol Manual. Her thousand eyes had been elsewhere, but one had seen him pull it out of its box, squinting dubiously at the cover, and then chuckle as he tossed it to one side. Further viewing showed it on its circuitous route towards discovery by Commander MInkowski, without Eiffel ever picking up his copy or anyone else’s.

Hera also knew that, thirty-one days prior to Commander Minkowski’s discovery, Eiffel had caught his arm in an open panel whilst talking to Commander Minkowski. Whilst Hera was focusing on keeping any of the wires touching his bare skin from going live, Eiffel had panicked visibly for a few short seconds, then closed his eyes in thought. As if drawing from memory, he reached for the panel’s control screen and keyed in the 27-digit emergency release code as recommended on Chapter 14, page 402, of Pryce and Carter's Deep Space Survival Procedure Protocol Manual. Hera had thought nothing of it at the time, but she would later wonder how he could possibly have remembered the entire code without actually at any point reading the book.

***

_ How could I not know how could I not know how could I not know _ “This is—” Eiffel crinkled plastic over his microphone “—from Canaveral, to the craft claiming to be the U.S.S. Hephaestus Station. Hephaestus, please respond.”

Hilbert would keep talking. He loved the attention to his work, the praise from Earth. Eiffel could feel it from the first time Hilbert has shaken his hand. It had even made him feel sorry for the bastard.

He almost fumbled the backup lit cigarette he was throwing into the vent, had to ask Hilbert to re-identify to buy time. “ID’s check out. Hilbert, what the hell are you doing? This is a priority channel, you were instructed not to use this means of contact for anything other than a condition one emergency.”

Hilbert’s sneering, smug croon came back down the line. Eiffel fought the urge to crush the plastic in his fist. Clung to the plan, not picturing Minkowski’s desperate peril in the vast recess of space—

“Right, right, what we’ve been looking for. If that is the case then—” plastic again “--crew? They give you any trouble?”

His heart almost thumped to a stop when Hilbert claimed he was dead, solid rock forming in his craw. Hera’s green light flashed twice above him—all set. Step one, complete.

Eiffel laughed. “Too much, huh? But you were just so eager to show off how smart you’ve been. That’s always been your problem, Doctor Hilbert: you’re so eager to seem smart, that you don’t always do smart. Thank you, however, for all of the free information, this has been very enlightening. For our part, we hope that you’ve enjoyed tonight’s production of “Hilbert Phone Home”, presented in Dolby THX in-sense surround sound by the good folks at... Doug Eiffel Studios.”

He kept talking, free-falling, the next step all in Hera’s metaphorical hands and there really was  _ no end _ to how well a psychic could keep hitting your weak spots, even if Hilbert’s mind  _ was  _ a maze of secrets, just like Minkowski’s—this here was Doug Eiffel  _ on ice _ .

He felt nothing when Hilbert ripped out Hera’s brain.

Objectively, he would have known he could feel nothing. Whatever weird quirk of genes, or magic, or whatever the hell it was that let him reach out and touch people’s minds, didn’t work on the electric mainframe of Hera’s brain.

_ Hera’s brain, right there in Hilbert’s hand, not even sparking as he slowly wired her back into the ship under Minkowski’s angry eagle eyes. _

“Hera?” he called, sitting back against the living quarters’ couch. He spoke fast, so he could get it out before she could respond. “I’m so sorry. I should have known.”

“You couldn’t have,” she reassured.

Eiffel swallowed. “Yeah, I could have, Hera. Because this isn’t just that I didn’t realise, or that Hilbert fooled me when I trusted him, it’s not about how I  _ feel _ , its—” He sucked in a breath. “It’s a lot more X-Men than that. Some real Heroes shit.”

“Eiffel--”

“Hera, I can read minds.”

There was a slow, staticky silence.

“Do I have one?” Hera asked. Voice small and fragile.

Eiffel sat up, stretching a hand out to touch the console. “Are you kidding! You have the most amazing mind I’ve  _ ever  _ met! You’re, you’re incredible. If I’m an X-Man you’re, I don’t know, you’re Oracle! Or the Vision, he’s better--”

“You  _ know  _ I don’t know what you’re talking about. But--”

“No, Hera. I can’t read your mind. It’s like trying to draw a picture of a light bulb that’s turned on, you can’t even look at it without your eyes hurting.”

When she didn’t respond, he added, “I think it’s incredible.”

Hera laughed. In an only slightly shocky rush of relief, so did Eiffel.

***

Isabel Lovelace took one last moment to steel herself as the hangar doors hissed open, taking one deep breath, bringing her gun up to bear.

She stepped forwards, levelling her aim an inch shy of the taller figure—male, shaggy haired, nervous. A moment’s more assessment, and she recognised the smaller figure was in command, and adjusted her aim.

She took a step forwards, her heart perfectly steady, cocking her gun. 

Both figures dropped to the floor, seizing, at once. 

“Eiffel? Commander?” The AI’s voice was shrill and panicked, lights flickering on the panel as scans ran over the two. The sound jolted Isabel out of her frozen shock, starting forwards to crouch over them. 

“Stop!” The console went dark. “You stop right there!”

“I’m trying to help!”

“What did you do to them?” The AI’s voice was glitchy. 

Isabel growled. “I didn’t  _ do _ anything! Turn on the lights so I can help!”

“I’ll turn them on the second you back off!”

“I don’t have time to argue with this ship when the crew is in danger!”

“Then do as I say!”

Isabel snarled, but back away, out of arm’s reach, and then back into the doorway. 

There was silence on the deck. Then a soft groan broke the atmosphere and the lights tuned up. The groan was from the man, curling in on himself as the woman sat slowly up, clutching her head. 

“What,” she growled slowly. “The hell. Was that?” 

She glared up at Isabel, who, conquest forgotten, raised her hands in surrender. Realised with no small amount of horror that she had dropped her gun whilst fumbling over the two of them. 

“What the  _ hell _ ,” the guy groaned. “What is going on in your brain?”

Isabel blinked, bemused. 

“Uh, Eiffel…” The AI trailed off. 

The woman was turning to stare at this Eiffel. “You--”

“Wait--”

“We--”

“Really?”

“I thought--”

“ _ You _ thought--”

“Never--”

“Realised!”

“Never even--”

“Met--”

“Another?”

“What the hell is going on?” Isabel demanded over the scatter of interjections.

The ignored her. 

“I don’t exactly--” The AI broke off. “ _ Ooooooohhhhhhhhhh _ . Commander Minkowski, you too?”

This seemed to break the two of them out of it. 

“Hera, you  _ knew _ about him?”

“Knew about what?” Isabel demanded. 

The two of them turned to stare at her in perfect synchronicity. “Isabel Lovelace,” they said. 

“What the hell?” she replied. 

“Commander Minkowski? Officer Eiffel?” the AI-- Hera-- chimed in. 

“What are you?”

“Are you two  _ sodding _ aliens?” she demanded. 

They looked at one another. 

“No,  _ you’re _ an alien!” Eiffel snapped. 

“Alright, enough!” The woman had stooped to pick up both her gun and Isabel’s, passing the third to her crewman. “You, talk.”

Isabel folded her arms. “I think you’ll be doing the talking,  _ Commander _ .”

“The guns akimbo on the commander disagree,” Eiffel said, aiming nowhere near her. 

Minkowski looked sidelong at him, her own aim unerring. “God, I can  _ understand  _ you when you talk. This is hell.”

“The explosives docked to your ship, however, are very much in agreement with me.”

“Oh,” they both said. “Hera?”

The AI confirmed. Isabel glanced between the two of them. “Now, what the  _ hell _ is going on?”

“We’re human,” the commander said flatly. 

“Human mind-readers.”

“But you’re not.”

Isabel shook her head dismissively. “Just how stupid do you think I am?”

“Stupid enough to wire explosives into a ship you are on?” Eiffel suggested. 

Pain stabbed at Isabel’s temples. She saw the two of them linking hands. “ _ Stop that _ .”

“Oh, so you do believe us?” Minkowski asked archly. She scrambled back, pushing Eiffel behind her, when Isabel came forwards to stop her. “Don’t come any closer,” she snapped. 

“What, because my  _ alien brain _ will--”

“Send us into another seizure, yes.”

“That’s--”

“And now you’re reconsidering,” Minkowski said. The guns were steady. 

_ Hey there, _ said Eiffel. His lips hadn’t moved. 

Isabel sucked in a deep breath. “What the--”

_ Yeah, if you knew me, you would have known something was up, I’m never this quiet.  _

“Ge--” Isabel choked, muscles not moving. Her face felt flushed, almost explosive for a terrifying second. 

_ Oh, oops, my bad, there you go, circulatory systems are go Commander.  _

The Commander rolled her eyes almost fondly. “Just get on with it, Eiffel.”

_ Alright, alright. Sleepy-time for you, Captain. Love your records.  _

Blackness. 

Then, when she woke, surety. Almost meditative. The sudden recognition of the buz of  _ new, strange, other _ in her mind. 

***

“That’s not me,” Doug said, staring down at the speaker. 

“It sure as hell sounds like you.” Isabel tapped on the wall to give him warning before she approached, though he would have completely forgotten to shield his mind in his shock if Hera’s voice hadn’t slowed her down. 

“No, Lovelace is right. We must understand what is--” 

“The only thing I understand is that you need to stop talking,” Hera said coldly. Hilbert sat back, jaw set. It had not bonded the two of them, being left out of the strange hivemind growing on the ship. It had bonded them even less, when Hilbert started to sync up too. 

And Doug was still staring down at the monitor. “ _ That’s not me _ .”

And Minkowski was there, warm assurance and rigid surety as she stooped over him. “We know, Eiffel. Nobody's going to do anything rash here.”

“You might, Commander--” Lovelace was all flash and fire, fear rumbling under anger. 

“Never had vocal recording,” Hilbert said, hearing Minkowski’s confusion. “This is first time.”

“Then who can this even--”

“How do we even know that--”

There were voices, and thoughts, building over one another and clashing and roaring-- “ _ That’s not me! _ ” 

Doug’s yell cut through it all, shock rippling over the room. There was silence. 

The speaker flashed. “Well... No, not really. It's not really Officer Eiffel. We have no voice of our own, so we are borrowing yours. To communicate.”

_ Borrowing your voice,  _ Minkowski thought, something ticking over. Hilbert’s brain focused almost laserlike on Lovelace. 

Doug tipped forwards. “You... What? You have my voice? How can - what kind of - what?”

They played back his logs. “We have listened.”

“You…” Mikowski jerked herself back into voice-talking, out of Lovelace’s creeping horror. “You transmit your logs into deep space?”

He denied it automatically. Hera stepped in to correct him. The goddamn tape. 

Lovelace was shaking her head, too slowly. “Hold on. You're not actually suggesting that we're talking to--”

“We don’t say the ‘a’ word,” Minkowski warned. 

Hilbert was back at the console, all hunger and curiousity. “You can speak English?”

“We have good Spidey Senses. With enough time and examples we've been able to work out the nittygrittys.” The speaker paused, audio perfectly silent. “Although there have been issues. We are still trying to figure out what you mean by, ‘crazy wamajama.’”

Irritation flared up. Not his own. 

“Would it have killed you? Would it have killed you to speak English like a normal person?”

“How the hell was I supposed to--”

“It was literally your one job!”   
“What is happening with the star?” Hera asked, before they could start overlapping. 

“It's a process. It's a long story, or you wouldn't get it. These may not be the right words exactly. You may want to hold onto something.”

They were merging again, Lovelace’s buzzing mind drawing closer into the fold and Hilbert’s twisting in at the edges. The voice explained, or failed to explain, as they interrogated, and the word  _ die _ fell like a hailstone in their midst. Tiny and deathly. 

“Hold up, everyone shut up for a second.” Doug drew a breath, and leaned in a moment. “Who... are you?”

“You know who we are. You always know.”

Fear flushed. Ice on his skin, his skin over Minkowski and Lovelace’s rushing heart and Hilbert’s steely horror. 

“Dear listeners.”

They know. 

“Please stand by.”

All hell broke loose. Hera’s voice, panicked and real, breaking them out of their merging. Eiffel held still, dazed and caught in the others’ thoughts, until Hilbert had a plan, and he could see it even as Hera was running numbers, and Doug pulled himself back. 

Minkowski was in command, in her element. “ Eiffel, Lovelace, go to the ship, get those the engine running on the double. Hilbert, double check the docking system, make sure we're not going to break apart at the wrong moment. I'm going to--”

“Look out!” Doug  _ pushed _ , with all he had, sent them hurtling to the floor with him as the shockwave hit. 

“We're getting hit by another wave of radiation. Rough seas ahead,” Hera warned shakily. 

Hilbert sat up. “Hera, get the station under control.”

“I can’t. We're in the middle of a series of concussive -  _ brace for impact _ !”

Doug wasn’t even back up from his previous brace yet, pulsed out as the others gripped the ship. Then a flash of panic, and pain, so strong and real that he grasped at his own side before he knew what hap happened. 

“Lovelace!” Minkowski was on her, holding her as the captain slumped, clutching her side. 

“That’s… not good,” Lovelace said weakly. 

Hilbert was with them, cool and tempered as Doug fought back the strength of Lovelace’s injury. Her reached almost thoughtlessly for Minkowski’s hand, lending each other strength. 

Hilbert’s voice in the background. “Piece of shrapnel... No exit wound, still inside her. Captain! Captain, can you move your feet?”

“Why would I... What do you…” Lovelace’s head was spinning, the world swimming over Doug’s eyes. 

“Damn-- psychics!” He could feel Hilbert struggling, pushing at their minds, and then there was another shock of pain as Minkowski’s shields failed and all of Lovelace’s alien scream hit her fullforce, sent her careening into Doug-- “We need to get her to my laboratory!”

“Commander?” Hera, panicked-- “What’s happening now?”

Doug let out a gasping yell as he slammed his own shields down over Minkowski. 

She stood, looped an arm under Lovelace, and helped her to the lab, where Doug could drop them, exhausted, and let her hold her own. 

“Thank you,” she said in earnest, in the few moments she gave Hilbert to assess his patient before turning to the bomb threat. 

This ship. Doug got moving again, back up and into the ship to do his own half of the work. “Hera, I'm almost at Lovelace's ship. Lovelace’s has gone dark.” His voice almost broke. “Can I get a sitrep?”

“Hilbert put her out, she’s alright for now but her vital signs are still going down.”

“Oh, goodie, is there anything else that can--”

“Don’t say it.”

He hit the airlock. Nothing. 

This goddamn ship. 

***

Renée stepped into the laboratory. “Sitrep, Hilbert. How she's doing?”

I removed the shrapnel, patched damage to arteries. She... Seems to be stabilizing.

“I removed the shrapnel, patched damage to arteries.” He stood up over the bed, exhausted. “She... Seems to be stabilizing. But this will take some time.”

“But she’s gonna be okay, right?” It was unmanageable now, the quietness without Lovelace’s neon-bright mind. But the news was never good here. She reached out to Eiffel instead, over the intercom so Hera could hear, but feeling his mind wrap around hers. 

“I can't get the main engine to turn on. The VX3's not responding at all.”

“It was an older model,” Hera explained. “We may have pushed it too far, used up all the charge that was left.”

Of course. 

“Well that’s encouraging.”

“You’re only drifting slowly, we’ll be able to get you back in no time. We'll steer the Hephaestus within range, and then you can use the propulsion maneuvering system to get back here.” She glanced back over at Lovelace, concerned.

“Nah, hang on. I think I might be able to get the booster to come back online. I should be able to use those to--”

Lovelace flatlined. Hilbert burst into motion, Minkowski subsumed almost into four more of his limbs, operating the lab as one with sparks of electricity and the yell of  _ clear _ until the final, determinedly steady beat of Lovelace’s monitor. 

Eiffel’s concern washed in as Minkowski came back to herself. She reached for the intercom to assure him and then--

Static. Nothing. 

“Hera, report!” Minkowski was stretching desperately, barely able to feel past Eiffel’s rush “Now! What the hell just happened out there?”

“One moment, Commander, I'm--”

“Did that bomb just go off?” He wasn’t hurt, or if he was it was enough to control, but he was panicked and terrified. 

“I... Yes, confirmed detonation. My scans are still trying to--” 

Crackling static. Eiffel’s voice. 

“Yes! We copy! Hera, get me his position. Eiffel, did--”

“Yes it--” Garbling static. “--the VX3's in one--but I've lost---no boosters, no---'s spinning, going real fast!”

“Hera, please tell me he’s not moving towards the star.” And she could feel him moving, too fast, growing distant and felt-faint.

“No, he's moving away from us. Towards deep space. And he's picking up speed.”

Hilbert was beside her as she focused, reaching for Eiffel as though she could pull him back by power of mind alone. “Eiffel! You need to slow down, or find some way to change course back towards the Hephaestus. Can you comply?”

Crackling static. Hera’s voice. “Eiffel, we're not just going to leave you out there. We're going to figure -”

“He's about to leave shortwave Comms range!”

“Eiffel? Eiffel!”

Silence over the comms. Renée brought her hands up over her eyes, reaching desperately--

A silent scream ripped through the air. 

He was the stronger psychic. They had tested this. But the scream was louder than any she had ever heard, desperate and reaching, she saw Hilbert drop to lifeless stillness, heard Hera glitch into a total crash, even saw Lovelace twitch as her voice joined the scream, minds tangling and tangling until--

Snap. 

***

_ Initialising system reboot.  _

Awareness flickered over the ship, Hera’s voice echoing in the halls before she was aware of it. 

“Hera!” 

“Captain Lovelace, you’re awake!”

They all were, Hilbert standing over her, Minkowski at the console. 

“How long was I down?”

“Days. We thought-” Commander Minkowski slumped a little. “We thought we had lost both of you.”

“Eiffel,” Hera said. The word echoed over the ship. “That was him?”

“You felt it?” Hilbert breathed, fascination sprawling over his eyes. 

“Keep your hands out of my code, Dr Hilbert,” Hera said, automatically. “Wait,  _ I _ felt that? That was what happened? Is that what it’s always like?”

“It’s normally quieter,” Captain Lovelace said quietly. 

Hera replayed the incident as they gave her the updates and she ran over the ship’s particulars. There were-- 

Hera didn’t know what to call them. Almost like scratches in her code. Scrawls of meaningless data that had never been there before she woke. Before Eiffel--

“What can I do to help, Commander?”

Minkowski was still speaking into the monitor. “Pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan. Canaveral. This is an urgent distress call from Lieutenant Commander Renée Minkowski, on board the U.S.S. Hephaestus Station. One hundred days ago we encountered an undocumented astrophysical phenomenon. The event left severe damages on multiple systems. Communications Officer Doug Eiffel is missing in action... and presumed dead. Station operational status compromised. Requesting immediate assistance. Please respond. I say again: requesting immediate assistance. Please respond.”

***

_ Eiffel, listen to me. _

“Go away, Hera.”

He didn’t know if he said it out loud or not. Had thought, the first time, that he might have somehow drifted back into Minkowski’s psychic range, but had felt the bonds snap when he lost her. 

_ It's important. There's something you -  _

“Please stop talking.”

_ You're not going to die here. There's too much you still have to do. You don't get to go away just yet.  _

She felt so, so, real. He could even feel her mind, like he never had, vast and bright and beautiful beyond belief. 

“That is exactly what I get to do. Just... float away. In all this quiet.”

_ It's going to be hard. And it's going to be scary, but... you're going to get through this. Everything is going to be okay.  _

Psychic, trapped all alone in his brain. His hands skittered out of control over the panel. 

“Go away! I don't want to talk to anyone right now! Just  _ go _ !”

“Uhh, say again, U.S.S. Horrible Unending Nightmare?”

“I said go away! I don't want to talk to anyone right now!”

Who the fuck was he even hallucinating now?

“Well, all right, but we have received your mayday and thought you might like a hand. Do you copy?”

“Oh my God, why is it so hard for you people to--” Wait. “Oh my god! Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Umm, yes! Hello, I copy! This is the U.S.S. Horrible... Whatever I Said Earlier! I copy loud and clear! Who is this? Do you have a lock on my position?”

There was a mind there, real and terrifying and devious, he knew even from here, but real. 

“Affirmative. Stand by for coupling process.”

And if he had thought that mind was devious before, in person it was like being in a cage with a tiger. But he was alive. 

Doug tried to speak, but was overwritten. 

“Easy, easy... I know you've been through a lot, but don't worry. Everything is going to okay. We're here to take you home.”

***

“He’s crazy,” Jacobi said flatly. 

“You think so?” Alanna asked, disinterested. 

Jacobi snorted. “I  _ think _ , have you been in a room with him? He’s talking to himself, and won’t stop  _ staring _ at Kepler, and he’s been scrawling this shit over every surface in the ship--”

“He gives you the creeps,” she teased. Spun her chair around to look at him as the sheet fluttered down on the desk. “Aww, I thought you liked him!”

“I liked the balls on him, when I thought he’d made it this far,” he grumbled. 

“He did make it this far.”

“Not all of him did.”

“You’re just embarrassed because that scrawny twig  _ scare you _ ,” she singsonged. 

He huffed. 

“You’re not denying it!”

“Oh, and he doesn’t scare you?”

“I’m not ususally scared of doodles.” She picked up the paper to flap it at Jacobi, and froze. 

“You see!” he snapped, defensive. “It’s creepy! Whole bunch of lines and squiggles!”

“Jacobi,” she said quietly. “Eiffel doesn’t have any programming experience, does he?”

“Not beyond basic,” he said, too quickly. 

She didn’t tease him about reading the file. “Jacobi, this is spiral binary.”

“What? He’s writing in code?”

“No, he’s writing  _ a code _ . An AI, even. This even looks like Pryce’s work, this  _ isn’t possible _ !”

“What, so he  _ memorised _ a code?”

“That’s not possible!”

There was a noise at the door. Eiffel was staring at the two of them. They stared back. 

“Who knew?” he said, with an oddly sharp smile on his usually genial face. “I really am sorry about this.”

“Sorry about wh--”

Alanna frowned. 

“Sorry, did you ask something, Eiffel?”

“Oh, no. Sorry.” He gave her a wan smile. “Thought I left something in here. My bad.”

He was standing a little close, picking up the notepad he had been doodling on, and then backed out with a cheery wave. 

“I still think he’s creepy,” Jacobi said, distantly. He slid Alanna the coffee he had brought in. “There you go.”

She took a deep, grateful draught and almost spat it out in disgust. “Jacobi, that’s ice cold!”

“The hell?” Jacobi raised the cup to eye level in disbelief. 

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, what, do you think you’re gonna find a hidden camera? Go make your report.”

She picked up her notes, fluttering a hand at him as he blustered out. Alanna sorted through the files, confused, trying to find where she had broken off. 

She had quite lost her train of thought. 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, slightly belatedly! I'm sorry this is late up, I had no wifi over the holiday. Hope you guys enjoyed!


End file.
